


Afternoon Delight

by Cottonstones



Series: Office Slut Vernon [2]
Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Anal Fingering, Boss Kink, Humiliation, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8810170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: The only thing that leaps out at Vernon is the whole thing with Jack. Arin must know. He must have found out somehow and now Vernon was going to be fired for inappropriate behavior in the office. Arin reaches his smooth oak door and tugs it open, holding it for Vernon to pass through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Vernon being a nasty boy on social media and also the scare to care stream where Arin felt up Vernon's butt. Hooray I finally got another part of the series done!

Vernon likes to think he can pull off a friends-with-benefits relationship. He’s not one to get completely hung up on feelings and though casual sex isn’t his favorite thing he’s not one to turn down sex with someone he trusts. Where it all gets turned on its head for Vernon is being around Jack at work. His usual hook-ups aren’t with people he sees daily. 

It hasn’t been weird or awkward in the office. It’s quite the opposite as Jack is acting as normal as ever, like he’s never kissed Vernon, like he doesn’t know what Vernon looks like naked or what he feels like clenching tight around Jack’s cock. That’s what’s throwing Vernon for a loop. Just how damn _normal_ Jack is being. 

Try as he might to remain positive Vernon still lets negative thoughts plague him, they creep into his mind like spiders and spin small webs all over his brain, making things cloudy, making it all harder than it needs to be. Jack’s being as fine and respectable and friendly as he’s ever been and it’s morphing in Vernon’s brain, changing into fear, into: _He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t want me. I wasn’t a good fuck for him._

Maybe it was silly to expect anything more to happen after that first hectic afternoon together. Jack made no promises and Vernon knows they aren’t exclusive, that it never even came up as an option, that he and Jack aren’t even _dating_. Underneath that defensive wall of humor and the layer of self-deprecation, Vernon is a romantic at heart, and maybe a small part of him - that seems to grow larger and larger with each passing day - misses what it felt like to kiss Jack. Maybe a piece of Vernon wants more from Jack. 

The thought is scary and it’s all even scarier when Vernon thinks that Jack isn’t interested in anything beyond that one time together. Maybe it isn’t just Jack that has Vernon rattled but the words Jack had said while they fucked, how he’d opened the line of thought that Vernon could have the other Grumps if he wanted them. 

Vernon has been actively avoiding that part of the history when he replays Jack fucking him in his head. He’s scared to examine it too closely, to believe there could be a truth to it all.

It had been a couple of weeks since Jack and Vernon fucked and seemingly nothing has changed. No one looks at him differently, no one whispers when he walks in the room. Jack smiles at him from across the office as he puts away groceries or sets up the camera for filming, and Vernon might feel a rush of _something_ but he waves, smiles, and tries to act like he always has. 

\--

Vernon is seated at his desk, sorting his emails into categories of ‘must answer’ and ‘can wait’. He’s mindlessly clicking away at his never-ending inbox when he feels a presence at the side of his desk. Vernon glances up almost nervously. Around the office you never know what you’re getting yourself into if you choose to engage. 

Vernon doesn’t find Brian with his phone primed at the ready like he had been anticipating. Instead, it’s Arin that’s standing there, smiling carefully down at Vernon. 

“Hey, Arin,” Vernon says, “What can I do for you?” 

Arin’s smile fades just a little and Vernon feels his heart speed up in his chest. Arin is usually so bright and bubbly, so goofy, it sets Vernon on edge to see him anything but. 

“Hey, I was, uh, wondering if you’d come talk to me in my office for a minute?” Arin asks, keeping his tone low. 

Something inside of Vernon balks, a wash of fear moving over him. Arin needed to see him in his office? That didn’t sound good. 

Vernon wants to say no. Wants to say he’s busy, but Arin’s the boss and if Vernon is in trouble he wants to do what he can to salvage his job if possible. 

“Sure man,” Vernon says. He scoots back out of his chair and leaves his desk, standing nervously next to Arin as he waits for the older man to lead him to his office. 

Arin walks him quietly through the office, past Barry’s desk where the man is clicking away at their next commercial, past Ross who’s half-heartedly drawing on his tablet. Neither of them taking note of Arin and Vernon walking by. They move from the main area of the office and down the hall past the bathroom. Vernon growing increasingly nervous as they walk. 

Arin’s office is a new addition to the building. It was converted from one of the two storage rooms and turned into a private spot for Arin to work or to take meetings away from the others. Being so far from the main section of the office, from the other Grumps only makes Vernon’s stomach ache with anxiety. What had he done to warrant a private talking-to? 

The only thing that leaps out at Vernon is the whole thing with Jack. Arin must know. He must have found out somehow and now Vernon was going to be fired for inappropriate behavior in the office. Arin reaches his smooth oak door and tugs it open, holding it for Vernon to pass through. 

“Come on in,” Arin is saying and though his tone doesn’t sound angry or grim Vernon still shivers with nerves as he strides into the room, his shoulder brushing Arin’s chest a bit as he passes him by. 

Arin’s office is clean, smells new in an unused sort of way. He’s got two huge bookshelves in here pressed up against the wall, his toys and self-help books lining the dark shelves. He’s got a desk, something like his one out in the main office, just a little bigger, sleeker. There are two leather chairs in the room and really the more Vernon stands here the more the office seems out of place for the Grumps. It feels stuffy and too professional, like it belongs to some douchey head honcho of a big corporation as opposed to Arin.

“Have a seat,” Arin says as he shuts the door behind him and pads across the expanse of the room to the chair seated behind the desk. Vernon nods again, tense and anxious. He’s ready to apologize, to beg for forgiveness even though Arin hasn’t actually said he’s in trouble yet. 

Vernon sits in the big leather chair, his knee jiggling as he waits for Arin to start talking.

Arin smiles at Vernon from across the desk. It’s hard for Arin to look imposing or overly mean. Maybe Vernon is just too used to him. He’s got his hair pulled back into a loose bun, his one stubborn strand that always seems to fall loose is brushing along his cheek. He’s got a t-shirt on and sweatpants for God’s sake. Arin isn’t exactly the picture of a boss, but Vernon respects him, acknowledges Arin’s role and how much he does for them, and he certainly doesn’t want Arin to be upset at him. 

“So, I have something I want to talk to you about,” Arin starts, his voice smooth and calm. 

“Alright, Arin,” Vernon says, hoping he’s managing to keep the nerves from his voice.

Vernon watches as Arin opens a drawer in his desk. He can hear the rattle of pens and paperclips and then Arin is withdrawing his hand and setting something on the clear expanse of desk in front of Vernon. 

Vernon’s heart stops, freezes up in his chest like it’s made of pure ice. 

Right there is the bottle of lube that Jack had ‘borrowed’ from Arin’s desk. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Arin did know. He _had_ to know and Vernon really was going to get fired over this. All because he wanted some dick, because he couldn’t control himself. He was going to lose the best fucking job he ever had because he was a _slut_. 

“I’m sorry,” Vernon blurts out. 

Arin’s eyes sparkle with something, his mouth tilting in a curious line, “For what, Vernon?” 

Vernon’s cheeks burn. Arin hadn’t accused him of anything, but Vernon gave up the ghost. If Arin didn’t know he had done wrong before, well, he certainly did now. 

“I…” Vernon motions at the desk, at the lube. 

“It’s okay,” Arin says, “A little Irish bird told me that you took it out of my drawer.” 

“W-What?” Vernon squawks, “Jack said _I_ took it?” 

Arin’s odd little smile widens, “So, you did?” 

“N-No!” Vernon says, “I didn’t even know it was there. Jack is the one that told me about it. He’s the one that went and- “Vernon trails off. His cheeks are burning. 

Why would Jack tell Arin that Vernon took his lube? Did Jack tell Arin that they fucked? Did he confess and now he was pinning it on Vernon to avoid getting in trouble himself? That didn’t seem like Jack or something he would do. 

“He what?” Arin asks, picking up the lube and examining it. There’s nothing special about it, the bottle small and half-way full of clear liquid. Vernon remembers the cold and slick press of Jack’s fingers against his hole, of Jack’s damp hands curling around his cock. He suppresses a shiver and swallows.

Arin’s smile is sly, like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. 

Vernon swallows, “I think you already know,” he mumbles, face red and stomach at his feet. 

“Maybe I do,” Arin says, his voice shifting, deeper, amused, almost reminding Vernon of the way Jack had talked to him before, “But I want to hear you say it.” 

Vernon’s stomach tightens. Arin’s words are sparking memories of when Jack had asked the same of him, had confessed to wanting to hear Vernon admit to what he needed. Vernon can feel heat surge through him, his heart beating so fast in his chest. 

“A-Are you going to fire me?” Vernon asks instead of giving Arin the answer he wants. 

“No,” Arin says, his smile falling away, “I’m not going to fire you, Vernon. I would never fire you.” 

“Then what are we doing? Why did you ask me to come back here?” 

Arin sets the lube down and runs a hand over the top of his head, smoothing down the flyaway hairs that are fighting against the constraint of his ponytail. 

“Jack did talk to me. He told me what happened between you two.” 

“And we have some kind of policy on not dating your co-workers?” Vernon guesses, still scared shitless but more confused than anything else. If he’s not losing his job, then what? Arin’s just going to tell him to be careful? 

“Are you dating Jack?” Arin asks, that smile creeping across his face. 

Vernon blushes, “No…I’m…we’re not dating.” 

Arin spreads his hands out on the desk in front of him, wide thick fingers open against dark wood. He watches Vernon carefully with his deep eyes and Vernon’s skin crawls, anxiety ratcheting up a notch.

“What he said to you wasn’t a lie,” Arin says and he’s never sounded more serious in his life. His tone sobers Vernon somewhat, centers him in a way that also scares him shitless at the same time. Jack told him that he could have the other Grumps if he wanted. Jack told him a lot of things. Could Arin really be for real about this? 

“Arin-“ Vernon says, his voice coming out shakier than he wanted. 

“I promise I’m not fucking with you,” Arin says, “If you want us… _me_ , the same way you had Jack, I’m right here, man.” 

Vernon’s mouth dries up and his heart stops. He curses the fucking day he decided to take the job with the Grumps because he is sure this kind of shit doesn’t happen in other offices. Your boss doesn’t sit down and tell you that if you want to fuck he’s totally down. 

“I’m sorry,” Arin says, his eyes falling to his lap, “I shouldn’t have brought this up. Just, Jack seemed so sure about it, that it was something you wanted, and I couldn’t help but agree.” 

“I-I’m not uncomfortable I…shit, this is just a lot all at once, Arin.” 

“I know,” Arin says and then he’s up and out of his chair. Vernon’s eyes are glued on the other man, watching with bated breath as Arin moves towards him, as he comes up behind Vernon’s chair. The next thing Vernon feels are Arin’s hands touching his shoulders, light, testing. Arin’s palms are so hot through the thin fabric of Vernon’s shirt. 

Already Vernon can feel his head spinning. How many times had he fantasized about Arin’s hands? Watching Arin work around the office and imagining those same thick fingers working him open or sliding wet over his tongue? Vernon shivers and he can hear Arin make a soft sound. 

“I want you to know I’d never force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do or that you weren’t comfortable with. I mean it, Vernon. This is all about what _you_ want and need. It’s not about me.” 

Vernon settles back into Arin’s touch, mind reeling. Shit, Arin was serious and he was making it clear Vernon could say no and leave if he didn’t want this, but…if he was being completely honest, Vernon’s wanted Arin for a long time. It was just like Jack, an itch he never thought he’d be able to scratch. 

Vernon reaches up a hand and rests it over Arin’s. Arin’s skin is hot and smooth and Vernon wants to see if the rest of his body matches that warmth. He wants to touch Arin’s back and chest and feel solid muscle, soft flesh. A hunger floods him. 

That’s another thing about Vernon. He’s not one to be ungrateful when presented with an opportunity. 

He leans back and looks up at Arin, “I want this.” 

Arin takes Vernon’s hand in his own and then he’s moving, circling around Vernon so that suddenly Arin is crouched down in front of the chair, almost between Vernon’s knees. Vernon’s hand feels ridiculously small in Arin’s grip and he likes the idea, the thought of being small compared to Arin, of letting Arin take charge. 

“I’m glad,” Arin says, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” 

Vernon is sure his face is just going to be permanently red from how hard he’s blushing. Having Arin’s attention focused purely on him is different and Vernon isn’t very good at accepting compliments but he’ll take them from Arin. 

Arin moves fluidly, releasing Vernon’s hand to slide his palm up along his arm until he’s cupping Vernon’s face. Then Arin is leaning up and he’s right there, hovering just before Vernon like a hazy daydream. He can smell Arin’s deodorant, the salt from his skin. The last thing he sees before Arin kisses him is that same smile gracing Arin’s lips. 

Arin doesn’t kiss like Jack, but it isn’t a bad thing. Arin kisses full and commanding, he tilts Vernon’s face up, his facial hair scratching at the sensitive skin around Vernon’s mouth. Vernon’s own hands fly out to settle on Arin’s broad shoulders, letting his fingers flex over hard muscle. Vernon moans at the feeling, at the kiss, the way Arin’s tongue sweeps at his lips, asking for permission. 

Vernon moans low in his throat when Arin’s tongue presses into his mouth. He can feel his dick twitching in his jean shorts. God, how did everyone in this office work him up so damn fast? He was far from a teenager but he felt like all Arin had to do was look in his general direction and he’d get hard. 

“Fuck, Vernon,” Arin murmurs against Vernon’s lips as he breaks their kiss, “You sound pretty already.” Arin steals another kiss, “As soon as we hired you I thought you were so fucking cute. Dan gave me so much shit about it.” 

Dan? Arin talked to Dan about him? The blush spreading over Vernon’s face deepens, Jack and now Arin’s words linger in the back of his mind. Did everyone in the office feel this way? Did _Dan_ feel this way? Vernon shakes the thoughts away. He can’t focus on that right now. He wants to pay attention to Arin, to the way that Arin is kissing him, how his large hand slides down to Vernon’s side, fingers curling against Vernon’s waist and urging him up and out of his seat. 

When they’re standing, Arin is taller than Vernon and he likes that. He likes Arin being taller, looking down at him. Arin’s hand moves from Vernon’s waist to his ass and then Arin is hauling him closer with his hands, kissing him again, hungrier this time, Vernon pressing up on his toes to keep their mouths connected. He can feel Arin smiling and all Vernon can do is cling to Arin to stay on his feet. 

He’s half-hard in his shorts wondering how far it’s going to go between them. As far as it had with Jack? The thought of Arin fucking him makes Vernon’s cock twitch where it’s trapped in the denim of his pants. With the way that Arin’s pulling him close its pressing his crotch against Arin’s thigh. Vernon can’t help but rub against him, just a little as his mind fills with different scenarios. He gets a vision suddenly of Arin bending him over the desk, over the chair that Vernon had been sitting in, or maybe he’d be straddling Arin’s wide lap and Arin could fuck Vernon so completely, so fully. 

As if Arin can read his mind, can sense his wonder, he breaks their kiss and smiles at Vernon, his thumb touching at the corner of Vernon’s mouth. 

“Do you have a safeword you like to use?” 

“N-Not really,” Vernon says. 

“We can use mine,” Arin says, “It’s Sorbet. Does that work for you?” 

Safeword? His cock twitches at the thought that he’ll need one. Maybe his face hasn’t caught up with his dick because Arin is hesitating. 

“I need to hear you, Vernon.” 

“It’s good, it’s fine. You think I’m gonna need a safeword?” 

“I want you to have it in case it feels like too much. Just to be safe.” 

Vernon nods, head reeling and cock throbbing in his pants. What was Arin going to do? What was he planning? 

“Do you trust me?” Arin asks, leaning in to kiss Vernon again. 

Vernon nods, he does, no lie. He absolutely trusts Arin. 

Arin smiles, “Good, now, about that lube.” 

Vernon’s eyebrows crinkle, “What? I- “ 

“I know I said you weren’t fired and you aren’t, but don’t you think some punishment is in order? You still took something that didn’t belong to you, didn’t you?” 

Vernon’s skin prickles with heat, Arin’s giving him a look, asking silently whether he should carry on. Vernon wrings his hands together in front of him, biting his lip. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Arin’s eyes darken with arousal, with heat, and Vernon wants to sink into him, his touch, his eyes, wants Arin to always look at him exactly that way. 

“Undo your pants and bend over my desk, then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck,” Vernon breathes but his hands lower to the button on his shorts, popping it with minimal effort. He walks forward and settles himself over Arin’s desk, his back facing the door and his hands braced on the cool wooden surface, his chin pointed down and his breath fogging up the rich dark wood. 

Vernon is nervous as he waits for what Arin will do next, what Arin will decide to do to _him_. 

He hears footsteps and his breath hitches, body primed and ready, anticipating a touch but having no idea where it will come from. He can’t even believe this is happening. He can’t believe Arin wants him in this way. 

“You take direction so well,” Arin says. His voice is close and Vernon gasps when he feels a large hand at the small of his back, rucking up the hem of his t-shirt, fingertips brushing against his skin, “You really think I’d fire someone like you? Someone so _obedient_?” 

Arin’s hand runs from the small of Vernon’s back to the waistline of his shorts. His thick fingers sliding under the fabric. Vernon’s insides squirm at Arin’s words. He can’t deny them. Anything the Grumps ask of him he’ll do, even if it’s stupid and embarrassing and he can’t bear to watch the video of it later when he’s home in bed. There’s something that pushes at him, that urges Vernon to be _good_ for them. He wants to make them happy. 

With ease Arin’s hand is sliding down Vernon’s shorts, pushing them down to bunch around his knees. Vernon’s got his boxer-briefs on and it’s the only thing between them.

“You didn’t even argue when I told you to bend over my desk. Just how bad did you want this to happen, Vernon?” Arin asks. 

“I…” he trails off, swallowing. It feels impossible to admit to Arin just how long he’s wanted this, the desire stronger now after being with Jack. He’s already spread his legs for one co-worker, what was one more? 

Arin’s hand cups Vernon’s ass through his underwear, squeezing lightly at Vernon’s right cheek. Vernon can’t hope to quiet the noise that snakes out of him, something soft and needy. From behind him he can hear Arin huff out a laugh. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“A while...after we first met…too long.” 

Arin’s other hand moves to Vernon’s hip, his thumb brushing just above the top of Vernon’s underwear, moving in small circles, making Vernon shiver. 

“You have been waiting a while then, haven’t you?” Arin says, voice smug and amused but low and silky in a way that has Vernon feeling dizzy, like he gets after a couple of beers too close together, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Vern.” 

Arin’s hand grips at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and then those are getting tugged down too, joining Vernon’s pants in a heap at his ankles. Now Vernon is bare from the waist-down and he presses his forehead against the wood, his mouth blowing hot air back into his face. 

He just wants to look good, but all his thoughts are telling him how bad he must look like this, bent over Arin’s desk for him to see. Vernon’s cock is hard now, aching and pressed firm against the edge of the desk. Like this he won’t get much friction but Vernon’s not even sure that him getting off is necessarily on the table, not yet at least. 

Arin’s hands are back on his ass, touching with huge palms that seem to eat up Vernon’s skin, covering so much with so little effort. 

“Biking has been good to you, Jesus,” Arin says, stroking over Vernon’s ass, petting at the soft skin there, “You got a nice firm little ass, Vernon.” 

“You know I’m not good with compliments.” 

“Oh, that’s right,” Arin says, “Would you rather I insult you then? Tell you that you look like a cute little slut just waiting for me to fuck you?” 

Vernon groans, heat flashing through him hotter than ever before. 

Arin laughs, “Sounds like you might like that. Are you getting off on the fact that I’m your boss? That you’re not supposed to want this? Or maybe that we’re doing this in the office where anyone could walk in?” 

Vernon’s cock twitches and he aches to reach down and touch himself. He doesn’t move though, maybe to prolong this whole thing or maybe it’s because he wants to wait until he has Arin’s permission, wants to see what Arin’s got in mind before Vernon disrupts it. 

Just like Jack, it seems Arin has zeroed in on something that Vernon didn’t want to unearth, a fact about himself that’s only getting more traction with each day. 

“Arin,” Vernon manages, the name sounding foreign in this new pleading tone. 

“Well, let’s make the boss happy. You want to do that, right Vernon? You want to make me happy?” 

Vernon nods as best he can in the position he’s in. He wonders if Arin is even looking so he throws in a “Yes.” For good measure. 

“I didn’t even have to ask you to speak up.” 

Arin is pawing at his ass, cupping the cheeks and squeezing, soft at first, kneading the skin. It doesn’t seem like much but it’s a surefire way to work Vernon up. The feeling is maddening. Each movement pulls at his rim, at his center, is just a tease to where he wants Arin’s touch and attention most of all. They’ve only just begun but already Vernon is sweating and more turned on than he’s ever been in his life. 

Arin’s touch becomes firmer, his nails biting into Vernon’s skin, making Vernon’s fingers flex and curl around the thick edge of the desk. 

“I think what would make me really happy, what would make me forgive you for stealing my lube, would be if I got to spank your cute little ass.” 

Vernon moans, the words alone are a surprise but it’s a good one, one that sets fire to his insides. How long has it been since he was spanked? A long time. It wasn’t something Vernon indulged in a lot because honestly, he didn’t get far enough into several of his relationships to bring up how maybe he’s into being spanked, it just didn’t happen. But here Arin was suggesting it, like he can read every thought that Vernon’s ever had in his life. 

“Fuck, you are a slut. You’re excited about that, Vernon?” 

“Y-Yes,” Vernon replies because the truth seems easier than trying to think up a lie. He wants it. He wants to feel Arin’s huge hands against his skin, the heat rising between them. He _wants_ Arin to punish him and he’s goddamn mortified by how shameless he’s being about it. 

“Ask me for it,” Arin challenges and Vernon isn’t looking at him, but he can so clearly hear Arin’s smile, the kind that flitters across his face when he lands a good joke, when he can beat Dan at a round of Kirby Golf. The look of knowing you got someone right where you want them. 

“Plea-Please?” Vernon says. 

“I think you can do better.” 

“P-Pretty please, Arin?” 

Arin rewards him with another firm squeeze, one that has Vernon moaning again. 

“Fuck, you know, with you bent over my desk like this I’m getting a nice peek at your cute little hole.” 

Vernon’s skin is on fire and he twitches, clenches around nothing at Arin mentioning his entrance. God, Arin has a filthy mouth on him, worse than Jack by far and Vernon wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of this encounter without possibly dying of embarrassment or need first. 

Vernon must make a noise, some huffy little release of breath, because he can hear Arin laugh behind him, dark and turned on. 

“You like that idea? Like me seeing you like this, Vernon? Do you want me to spread you open with my hands and touch you?” 

Vernon shivers and he can’t help it. He just can’t. His hips roll against the unforgiving hard edge of the desk. His angle is terrible, not enough pressure, nothing to rut off against. His cock trapped by his thigh leaking and wet, begging for attention and throbbing at Arin’s words. 

“I…I want the spanking.” 

“Oh,” Arin says, his hands shifting again as if they just can’t decide where to settle, as if there were too many interesting places to put them, “You’d rather have me spank your ass? Make it as pink as your asshole?” 

Vernon moans, thumping his forehead against the wood, the plastic bridge of his glasses pressing against his nose. Vernon tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against damp wood. 

“Arin, my glasses…” Vernon may be fully ready for this but he isn’t ready to spring for a new pair and his back-up glasses drag his confidence down by at least half, so he’d really like to be sensible about this one thing. 

“Of course,” Arin says and gently he plucks the glasses from Vernon’s face, folding them and setting them near the keyboard and out of their reach. It’s a huge difference from Arin’s words, his promise to spank Vernon, and it helps show Vernon that this is the Arin he knows, this Arin who tries his best to take care of everyone around him but also is apparently very good at giving people what they need in the dirtiest way possible. 

Did Arin do this with the others? Dan’s face springs to mind. There are so few things that Arin does in his life that _don’t_ revolve around Dan, so Vernon wouldn’t be surprised if they had fooled around before. Arin has ties with all of them, all the Grumps and it wouldn’t be a stretch to see him have this kind of relationship with any of them. 

The thought of any of the other Grumps, any of his co-workers, spread open and bent over Arin’s desk just like Vernon is now… it gets Vernon even hotter, makes his head hazy with visions of skin he’s never touched, with moans he’s never heard before. 

After Arin has settled Vernon’s glasses he moves back into position, sinks back into his role of unhappy boss waiting for Vernon to make it up to him. Vernon’s blood is on fire, mind whirling. If he thinks too much about this he’ll get caught in the details, distracted by questions that now is not the time to ask. He’s going to take what’s happening and roll with it like before, like with Jack. 

Arin’s hands smooth up the backs of Vernon’s thighs, his palms huge and momentarily gentle. The soft kiss of Arin’s fingertips creeping over his skin is electric, is a turn-on, but Vernon finds himself craving that firm squeeze, anticipating the spanking that Arin had promised him. He wants that more than anything else, as ashamed as he is to admit it. 

Arin has both his ass cheeks in the palm of his hands, massaging slow, kneading again and with each pull, each push of his hands, it tugs at Vernon’s hole, tricks him with that feeling, that tease of being opened. Except Arin isn’t opening him up, Arin isn’t spanking him. Arin’s making him _wait_. 

“You got a great ass. I bet you hear that all the time. God knows Jack couldn’t stop talking about it. How amazing you felt around him, how tight and wet you were.” 

Vernon lets out a low moan, embarrassed and turned on by Arin’s words. Jack had told Arin everything, had praised Vernon’s body, and there is small pit of shame worming through Vernon’s stomach, but at the same time there is a fire, something big and huge, eating at Vernon’s insides overpowering any other feeling. He realizes quickly he likes the idea of Arin knowing that he was a good fuck for Jack, he likes that Jack bragged about it. 

“Jac-Jack’s bad at keeping secrets.” 

“You think it was a secret that you wanted to fuck Jack? It was written plain as day all over your face, Vern.” 

Vernon shudders against the desk and he presses back against Arin’s hands without meaning to, on instinct, needing more from the man behind him. 

Arin doesn’t miss the movement, of course he doesn’t. 

“Look at you, fuckin’ eager for your punishment?” 

Vernon finds himself nodding. He’s ready for more, for anything else. He’s turned on and leaking and really, they are still at the office and the longer they are back here together the harder it will be to explain what happened, unless no one needs an explanation, unless everyone already knew beforehand what was going to happen back here. 

Vernon thinks of Ross and Barry and how they hadn’t even glanced up when Arin asked Vernon to follow him. Did they know? Did they have an idea that it would end with Vernon letting Arin have him? The idea makes small sparks of pleasure flicker through his stomach. He likes the idea of being back here with Arin and having Barry and Ross turned on at the thought of what they aren’t seeing. 

“Okay, Vern,” Arin says smoothly, carefully, drawing Vernon from his thoughts, “On the count of three.” 

Vernon nods, flexes his fingers around the edge of the desk. 

“One.” 

He’s so hard he could scream. 

“Two.” 

His heart is beating too fast in his chest. 

“Three.” 

Arin’s hand comes down and lands on Vernon’s right ass cheek with a loud smack. Vernon’s body jumps, his nerves on end. That first hit he doesn’t even feel, not really, the adrenaline pumping through him too hard, too rapid for him to take in anything besides the fact that it happened. 

Arin rubs at the spot where his hand met Vernon’s skin. Vernon presses against the heat of Arin’s palm. He’s so fucking hard he can feel himself leaking. 

“Another?” Arin asks. 

Vernon nods, he wants it, that intense anticipation, waiting for the crash of Arin’s hand against him. “Please, please.” 

“Vernon, fuck. Of course.” 

There is no count down this time, just a breath of silence and then Arin’s hand smacking Vernon’s ass. This time he feels it. The heat spreads through him like a tidal wave, rippling from his left ass cheek and rocketing through him, head-to-toe. Vernon moans, bites his lip to reign his noises in, to try not to sound so damn shameless. 

Arin doesn’t make him ask again. He alternates his strikes between Vernon’s ass cheeks, intent on leaving him evenly sore. Arin’s got so much power in him, Vernon knows this, but he isn’t going full-out. Vernon can feel the restraint, how Arin is making his ass pink and sore but he isn’t out to _hurt_ him. 

Maybe it’s the thought that Arin _could_ hurt him that gets Vernon off. Maybe it’s what’s working him up. Arin is huge and strong and he could fuck Vernon up if he wanted to. The underlying strength makes Vernon shiver, makes him rut hopelessly against the edge of the desk. 

Arin swats at him again, a fraction harder than the others had been, leaving a sting in its wake. 

“Fuck, you just fucking take it. You’re such a good boy, Vernon. You’re so good for me.” 

Arin’s praise comes with another smack and the heat flares up inside of Vernon. His flesh where Arin had been hitting him is red, raised and he can feel the warmth rising from his skin. Pain flickers through him. It’s a low hum, an insistent throbbing to match the pulsing of his dick. 

Vernon’s missed this. He’s missed this feeling, the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain. It’s not often Vernon lets himself mingle in his more out-of-the-box kinks, not many people he can trust with it. It feels good to put stock in Arin in this way, to get this from Arin. 

“You’re all red,” Arin breathes. He sounds a little awed and that slick embarrassment worms through Vernon. He wants to see himself again, like before with Jack. He wants to be standing in the doorway and watching Arin admire his red and swollen ass. 

Arin’s touch is gentle and his hand is practically ice compared to Vernon’s heated skin. He can feel Arin’s fingers feather-soft as he traces the little raised lines, leaving buzzes of electricity in his wake. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Vernon.” 

“A-Arin,” Vernon chokes, because he’s embarrassed, because he’s needy, because he’d rather have Arin spanking his ass raw than hear Arin call him beautiful because Vernon doesn’t know how to process that. Pain makes more sense; pain is more black and white, “More.” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arin hisses and he rubs his palm over the curve of Vernon’s ass, “You really want more?”

“Yes, I just…I want it.” 

“Begging me to spank you like the little slut you are,” Arin says, “God, Vernon.” And then Arin’s hand makes a sharp cracking sound as it comes down on Vernon’s sore ass. 

Vernon’s body jerks with the hit, his head coming up from the desk. His entire body is shaking and he just _wishes_ he could get a hand between himself and the desk and jerk off while Arin spanked him senseless. 

Arin lays into him again with three sudden slaps in a row and Vernon is full out moaning, clutching the desk so hard his knuckles are white. He’s humping the side of the desk, at this point completely unashamed that Arin might be seeing how much it’s turning him on. Vernon’s arms ache with how hard he’s gripping the desk and he lowers himself back down to the now sweat-slicked surface. 

Already he knows it’s going to be hell to sit tomorrow. Fuck, it’s like noon and he’s at work and is supposed to get back to that work after this is over. No way in hell Vernon will be able to sit at his desk after this. 

Arin is massaging his skin again but even that is beginning to hurt more than soothe just from how tender Vernon’s flesh is. He knows his face is red, a sweaty disaster and he’s more turned on than he’s been in so long. 

“You did so fucking good, Vernon,” Arin says, his praise soft and kind, “No more though. You’re so pretty and red already. I think you’ve been punished enough.” 

Vernon lets out an embarrassing sob. He can’t handle it if this is done, if this is all there will be between them. He needs _more_. He’s not ready to be done. 

“I…I…please don’t go.” 

There is a quiet before there is shuffling and then Arin is leaning against Vernon’s backside, the rough of his jeans rubbing Vernon’s already raw ass. 

“I didn’t say I was done with you yet.” 

Vernon moans, his desperation at a new level, one he usually only achieves at home. How did Arin manage to do that? To reduce Vernon to this shaking mess already? 

“Wha-What else?” Vernon asks. 

Arin touches Vernon’s hips, his lower back, anywhere _but_ his ass. Arin doesn’t answer right away but he hears the sharp click of the lube bottle opening. Vernon gasps and Arin is against him again, hands at Vernon’s arms, holding loosely and guiding him backwards so that Vernon’s upper half is off the desk, so that Arin’s mouth finds his ear, lips skating the shell in a soft kiss. 

“Can I finger you, Vernon?” 

Vernon chokes on his moan and he nods, furiously. He’s so keyed up, so desperate for more of Arin’s touch that he’d agree to just about anything Arin laid out on the table at this point. After feeling Arin’s hands, his fingers, after all the teasing he needs this, wants to feel Arin’s fingers opening him for real. 

“Y-yes, please.” 

“You learn fast how to ask nicely,” Arin breathes, “Can’t wait to spread your red little ass and look at that hole, fuck you on my fingers.” 

“Shit,” Vernon groans. 

Arin laughs as he leans away, letting Vernon lower himself to the desk. Vernon shifts a little and he waits, heart beating rapidly in his chest. 

“Move up the desk a little for me,” Arin tells Vernon. 

He listens, pressing up on his heels and sliding himself along Arin’s desk, his cock dragging against the surface, making Vernon shudder and moan. In this new position, mostly propped up on the desk, hands hanging over the opposite edge instead of gripping it like he had been before, Vernon’s ass is more stable, tilted up at a better angle for Arin.

The thought alone makes Vernon’s cock throb. 

Vernon wishes he could see Arin. That he could watch Arin spread the lube over his fingers, watch him prepare to open Vernon up. The good part that comes with not being able to see anything except the beige colored wall in Arin’s office is that Arin’s touch comes unexpectedly. It’s a shock to his system when he feels cool, wet, hands pressing against his ass, not massaging like before, but pushing his cheeks apart, spreading him wide open. 

Vernon sucks in a sharp breath. God, Arin’s thumbs were holding him apart and he can feel his hole twitch in anticipation. Vernon feels vulgar, feels so exposed, so dirty like this. 

“Just as cute as I imagined,” Arin says softly, voice so husky with arousal that Vernon wants to drown in it, “Almost as pink as your ass is now.” 

Vernon presses his face against his wrist, overwhelmed with how good this feels. Arin hasn’t even touched his hole yet but Vernon is writhing like he’s been fucked for hours, like he’s been worked over and is just begging to come. 

Arin’s hands shift and then one of his thumbs is pressing against Vernon’s entrance, dragging in a slow wet circle. Vernon moans against his own skin. 

“You like that?” Arin asks, “My fingers touching you?” 

“Yes, fuck, your fingers feel good,” Vernon admits. 

“Wait until they’re actually inside of you.” 

Vernon whimpers. Arin pulled that sound from him and he’d do it again, he’d make any sound if it meant Vernon could get what he wanted. 

Arin continues his careful small circles against Vernon’s rim of muscle. The heat is so intense, a fire pooling inside of him, roaring ever higher with Arin’s voice guiding it, feeding it. 

“You like it, Vernon? Like the idea of your boss seeing you like this? Of being bent over my desk at _work_ because you’re enough of a slut to give it up to me here?” 

Vernon whines. How did Arin hit kinks that Vernon didn’t even know he had? Some newfound element of power-play that had always been on the edge, a peripheral interest to Vernon until it was showcased in this way, with Arin. 

Arin. His _boss_. The dude that signs his paychecks and holds Vernon’s fate at the company in his hands, the same hands he’s now using to tease Vernon’s asshole. God. It was wrong but it felt so much hotter to think of Arin as his boss, as someone with a certain amount of power over him, even though the Arin Vernon knows would never use the boss card to get what he wanted. 

Arin presses his thumb in against the rim, as if he were going to slide into Vernon and right now that’s impossible, but the pressure is there and a fire explodes in Vernon’s stomach. He’s hungry for more. Each time Arin gives him something new Vernon is already ready for the next step, would be willing to go that extra mile further if Arin wanted to push it that far. 

“Maybe it doesn’t even have to be me that turns you on. Maybe you’d give it up to anyone.” 

Vernon’s face burns and he wants to object, but with how his mind is spinning he’s finding it hard to think of a defense. 

“You’d let anyone touch you if they asked nice enough? If they spit on their fingers and rubbed your little hole? If they called you pretty would you let them fuck you?” 

“God, Arin, I-I need-“ Vernon starts, cutting himself off because he’s embarrassed, but Arin’s fingers are still touching him and coupled with Arin’s words it’s creating a storm huge and intense inside of Vernon.

“Tell me what you need, baby boy,” Arin coos. He slows his thumb, dragging so slowly, pressing, that teasing hint of penetration that has Vernon whining against the desk, his cock leaking across the surface where it’s trapped between Vernon’s stomach and the desk. 

“I need your fingers inside me. I need _anything_ inside of me. Please, Arin. Please.” 

“You sound so cute when you beg like that,” Arin says, “It’s incredible to hear.” 

Vernon’s cheeks burn but he feels Arin’s touch change, hears the click of the lube again, and he shivers right before he feels the thick edge of Arin’s finger settle at his hole. He begins to press in like before, like that teasing hint of pleasure except he doesn’t stop this time. Arin works his finger into Vernon, opening him up. 

Vernon’s hands fly out to clutch at whatever he can reach, which ends up being the arms of Arin’s office chair. His mouth opening on a soft moan as the familiar sensation of being filled- even if it’s not as much as he’s craving- takes him over. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Arin says, “Fuck you’re tight. Jack didn’t tell me about that.” 

Vernon is panting already, so embarrassingly turned on by this, by the scenario, by Arin, by the thick finger worming its way into him. 

“Ma-Maybe he wanted to save some surprises for you. Since you two planned all this,” Vernon tries, head swimming. For all he knows gibberish could be coming out of his mouth, he could be making no sense at all. 

“We didn’t really plan anything,” Arin says, voice smooth and Vernon can feel when he curls his finger inside, when sparks shoot through Vernon at the sensation and he whines, “We talked about it, about you. Jack had an idea about you, a thought, and he shared it with me and wouldn’t you know it, we both shared the same idea.” 

He thinks he knows where this is going but he can’t be sure. Jack’s words echo around in his head, promises of them being able to give Vernon what he wanted, being able to be with him. 

“What idea?” 

“That you were attracted to us, _all_ of us, in some way or another. The second idea is that you need a lot more than you’ll let on.” 

Vernon’s blood goes a little cold and he wiggles his ass to get more from Arin, to distract from the conversation at hand. 

Arin’s second finger touches at Vernon’s rim before it presses in alongside the first. Vernon hisses but this is good, this is the stretch he was after. 

“You make jokes, little bits about how you want us to hit you, call you scum, how you’ll do anything we ask you to no matter how embarrassing it is. You’ll do it and act like you’re so mortified, but you like it, I think. You get off on listening to us, on doing humiliating shit. I think you like it a fuck of a lot more than you pretend to hate it, Vernon.” 

Arin is being real. He’s having a goddamn heartfelt conversation with Vernon about his deepest secrets while he’s got two fingers in Vernon’s ass. It scares him, honestly, the idea that he’s so transparent that they all figured him out, figured out shit about him that he wasn’t ready to admit to except in small doses let out in teasing jokes. 

Vernon doesn’t like to think about it but Arin’s right. He doesn’t know how to explain it or why. He doesn’t know what happened to make the duel edge of embarrassment and humiliation be a turn-on, what wire inside of him got crossed, what got broken inside of him that made his sexuality so fucked up. The worse people treat him sexually the more Vernon gets off on it, which has led to some pretty bad situations in his younger years, when he wasn’t as careful, when he was exploring what it meant to be young, and in college, and kiss guys for the first time.

He’s more guarded now and he doesn’t let people know that side of him, except for here. Except for the Grumps. It scares Vernon too to know he trusts them all that much, that he let this out, let it happen enough that Arin and Jack-fuck maybe _everyone_ \- picked up on it. 

“Vernon?” Arin asks, drawing Vernon from the spiral of his thoughts. He notes that Arin’s fingers have stilled inside of him and Vernon breathes, clenches around Arin’s digits and earns a low noise in return, “Were we right? Even if it’s just a little?” 

Vernon nods despite how goddamn ashamed he is about all of this, about that side of himself. 

“It’s not about getting you to admit to anything,” Arin says, his fingers beginning to move again, slow, careful, “It’s about you knowing that whatever you want, whatever you need, whatever gets you off, it’s okay, man. It’s okay and we love you and we’ll do anything for you, Vernon.” 

God fucking damn Arin. Damn him for being sweet and fucking sexy. 

Vernon nods, desperate, so ready to move on from this topic. He’ll take it, let it sink in, think of it later in bed tonight with Michael curled on his stomach and the memories of this moment replaying over and over until Vernon finally falls asleep. That’s when he’ll deal with it. Not right now, not with Arin two fingers deep inside of him. 

“Just, finger me, please, keep going, _please_.” 

Arin lets it all drop. Vernon feels the soft press of lips against the sore and reddened skin of his ass. He jolts, moans. Arin’s fingers curl inside of him. 

“You-You’re literally kissing my ass right now.” 

Arin laughs, “I don’t hear any complaints.” He presses deeper and the blunt tip of his finger brushes Vernon’s prostate, making Vernon arch and near shout. It takes all he has to remind himself to keep quiet because they aren’t alone, his knees shaking as Arin repeats the motion, “Kinda getting the opposite.” 

“Fuck,” Vernon breathes, opened mouth and wet against the desk. 

“Am I gonna make you come, Vernon? Are you that turned on? That close?” 

Vernon pushes into Arin’s touch. He feels close, edging ever closer. He gets worked up so fast, so easy. It’s all going to be over too soon and he’s not ready for that either. He wants to roll on his back, feel the pressure of the desk against his aching ass and jerk off for Arin, wants to shoot all over his own stomach for Arin to see. 

“Can you take another?” Arin asks, “Want another one of my fingers inside of you?” 

“Yes, yes, Arin, God.” 

Arin doesn’t hesitate, adding a third finger and working it inside. The stretch is good; Vernon feels open and slick. He feels disgusting and sweaty. He feels like a slut, like all he’s good for is getting fucked and that’s exactly what turns him on. 

Arin’s fingers feel huge inside of him and he doesn’t hold back anymore. He’s pressing deep, searching for that spot inside of Vernon that will drive him close to the edge, that will make it difficult to bite back the sounds that want to escape him. Arin presses against his prostate and Vernon’s hips buck. He digs his teeth into the soft skin of his wrist to keep the moan inside. 

God, he’s hard. He’s so fucking hard. Vernon feels overwhelmed by the pleasure and heat building inside of him. That point where everything feels raw, where your body is amped up by a thousand. Arin is touching him insistently, rubbing clever thick fingers against his prostate and making Vernon twitch and gasp on the desk. 

He’s never come from just being fingered. Not in his whole life. Was it going to happen now? Was Arin going to be the first one to make Vernon come this way? 

“Fuck, Vernon, you’re so hot and tight. You feel amazing around my fingers. I can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around my dick, letting me fuck you.” 

The scene floods Vernon’s senses, his mind. He imagines Arin gripping his hips, slamming into him. How Arin’s cock is thick and wide, not as long as Jack would be but sizeable in its own right. He’d feel so much more opened than right now, than Arin’s fingers are doing. He imagines Arin being relentless with quick hard thrusts that make Vernon’s hips bump the desk, that promise to leave the light press of bruises on his skin. 

Vernon whines, his body strung tight with pleasure, the mix of fantasy and reality and new possibilities overtaking him and with Arin fucking his fingers in and out of Vernon’s ass, pressing against his prostate, his ass still aching from the spanking Arin had given him, Vernon shudders and comes untouched between the desk and his own stomach. 

“Fuck, fuck, you came. You came without me even touching your cock. Goddamn Vernon.” 

Arin sounds a little awed and then his fingers are gone and Vernon hisses. He hates the empty feeling already. He misses Arin’s fingers filling him up. 

There are footsteps and then suddenly Arin is around the desk and in front of Vernon and his hands touch Vernon’s face. His fingers are hot and damp as he cups Vernon’s cheeks and lifts his head, leaning in so he can crash their mouths together. 

Arin kisses him sloppy, the angle is shit with how Vernon is still bent over the desk and Arin has to lean down even further to meet Vernon in the middle. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Arin mutters against Vernon’s mouth. 

It almost boggles Vernon’s mind how fast he can slip in and out of the dirty talk, of the boss who wants his payback versus the person Vernon really does know. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Vernon asks instead because it seems customary. Also because he really wants to, wants Arin big and hard in his mouth, filling his throat. 

Arin groans, fingers sliding into the sweaty mess of Vernon’s hair. 

“Fuck, that sounds incredible, but don’t feel like you have to get me off.” 

“You can fuck me,” Vernon suggests and Arin moans, fingers tightening a little. 

“Vernon, shit, where did my little embarrassed boy go?” 

Vernon ducks his head as best he can, “He left around the time you made me come.” 

“I have an idea,” Arin says, “If you trust me?” 

Vernon lifts his gaze to Arin and he nods, “I trust you.” He means it. He thinks he’ll always mean it. 

Arin kisses him once more and then he’s gone, padding back around the desk and behind Vernon once again. 

Vernon can hear the rustle of fabric and then the click of the lube and he tingles. Is Arin going to fuck him after all? Vernon can hear Arin hiss, presumably as he strokes himself to get himself slick. Vernon’s heart races in his chest. He wants to be fucked. He wants Arin to take him and use him, goddamn it, Vernon wants to be good for Arin. 

Arin’s lube-cool hands touch Vernon’s ass, cupping his cheeks and pressing them together slightly. The skin is still raw, still tender from where Arin had swatted at him. He lets go on the left side but braces himself on the right and then Vernon can feel the thick and wet head of Arin’s cock against his ass, sliding not against his hole but between his sore cheeks, leaving a wet path in its wake. He’s confused for a moment, thinks Arin missed, but then Arin is doing it again, the slick length passing over Vernon’s entrance, a teasing brush but not actually fucking him. 

“God,” Arin grunts, “Yeah, Vern.” 

Vernon’s body rocks with Arin’s movements and even though he’s not getting fucked the sensation is good, it feels nice having Arin big and hard and sliding against him. It makes the urge to be fucked flow through him, the itch not quite being scratched and Vernon imagines himself going home, locking Michael in the living room and fucking himself on a toy in his bed, imagining it’s Arin, wanting it to be him. 

Arin fucks between Vernon’s ass cheeks, the head of his cock sliding up against Vernon’s lower back. When he thrusts, he freezes and grinds against the small of Vernon’s back. Vernon hisses as their bodies rub together. He moans softly, dick twitching in interest. He’s going to be a fucking mess, it’s likely his shirt is stained from his own come. 

“Fuck, look at you. You’re still so red from my hand, messy and covered in lube and come, letting me fuck your ass cheeks. You’re dirty, Vernon. You’re a little slut for me, aren’t you?” 

Vernon moans, Arin delving into the idea that Vernon likes it, likes being degraded, teased, humiliated, all the shit he should hate but really has the opposite effect on him. 

“I-I am,” Vernon says, “Wanna be your slut, Arin. For you.” 

Arin groans, the sound rumbling through him like a growl, heat slicing through Vernon’s stomach. Arin’s movements speed up, he grinds against Vernon’s back, his cock slick and sticky against Vernon’s skin. 

“You close?” 

“Yeah, you gonna let me come all over you, Vernon?” 

Vernon groans. He thinks of that first time with Jack, how Jack was going to clean him up but Vernon declined, how he wanted to feel the mess of Jack’s come against his skin. How he spent the rest of that day with come dribbling out of him and by the time he got home he was wet with come and messy as fuck. He wants that again with Arin, wants to walk back to his desk with Arin’s come sticking to his skin. 

“Do it…I want it. I want to feel you come on me, please, come all over me, _Boss_.” 

Arin moans and his hand grips at Vernon’s hip as he speeds up. He’s panting harsh and the sound is beautiful, mesmerizing, Vernon could listen to it on a loop for the rest of his life. He wants to turn around and see Arin. He wants to see Arin falling apart around him. His breathing is ragged and his hand curls tight around Vernon’s hip as he fucks between the globes of Vernon’s ass cheeks. 

It’s only three more thrusts before Arin grunts, before he lets out this rough sound that hits Vernon like a brick and then Vernon can feel the hot wetness of Arin’s come splashing on his lower back, dribbling in a thick rope between his reddened cheeks. 

He moans, presses his face against the back of his hands, pants as he feels Arin’s come cooling on his skin. 

“You sure you don’t want me to get a paper towel or something?” Arin asks. There’s more rustling and Vernon figures he’s tucking his dick away.

Vernon shakes his head, “I...I like it.” 

“Fuck, Vernon.” 

Arin’s hands skim down his thighs, down to where his pants and underwear are bunched. Vernon feels him tugging and then he’s easing Vernon’s clothes back up his body, settling them over the mess on Vernon’s skin. 

Vernon straightens up slowly for the first time since he was bent over the desk. His back aches and his ass is sore, feels like it’s throbbing. He feels disgusting, used, but calm in an odd way. Vernon tugs down his shirt and sure enough, he’s got come on the hem of it. 

It’s silly how he’s almost embarrassed to turn around and actually face Arin. The other man is his boss, his _friend_ and now a sexual partner, Vernon definitely has to be able to look him in the eye again. When he does turn around Arin looks just the same as he ever had before, if not a little redder in the face, his hair slipping from its ponytail. 

Arin smiles at Vernon, small and careful. 

“How do you feel?” Arin asks. 

“I’m okay,” Vernon admits, “My ass hurts a little.” 

“I’m sorry,” Arin says and then he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Vernon’s mouth, his hand touching Vernon’s wrist. Electricity surges across Vernon’s skin. The two of them break apart and Arin’s eyes brighten, “Oh, hang on.” He pulls away from Vernon and pads around his desk, returning a few minutes later with Vernon’s glasses in hand, “Here.” 

Vernon blushes as Arin slides his glasses on his face. 

“Better?” Arin asks. 

Vernon nods, “Much better.” 

“So, uh, you kinda look like shit now,” Arin says. 

Vernon snorts, “Thanks?” 

“I mean…it was my fault, so, why don’t I give you the rest of the day off. I don’t want you sitting in the office with jizz on your shirt and a sore ass.” 

“That’s nice of you,” Vernon says. He can always check his emails from the comfort of his bed and Michael is good company while setting up appointments. He’s tired, drained in a weird way where he feels like he gave away too much of himself all at once. 

“Did, you, uh, ride your bike today?” Arin asks. 

“Fuck,” Vernon groans. He had completely forgotten that fact. There’s no way in hell he can sit on the seat and ride it home with how sore his ass is, “I guess I can get an Uber.” 

“Nah, fuck that, I’ll drive you. I can pick up some of that lotion that’s good for like sores and shit and rub it on your tender ass.” 

“Calamine.” 

“Yeah,” Arin says with a nod, “I’m going to Calamine your ass.” 

Vernon rolls his eyes but he’s touched and a tad embarrassed that Arin wants to take care of him. He won’t argue. He appreciates Arin’s company and it’s been a while since the two of them hung out on their own, just them. It’ll be nice, Vernon is sure. 

“Okay, Arin, sounds good.”


End file.
